Born from something so small and seemingly void of vitality,
Growing, blooming, blossoming,
Changing with the seasons, the weather,
How much love and care it receives.

Deep inside you know its beauty is ephemeral but still you yearn for it when it’s gone.
Somehow you think the vibrance, scent and allure will always be there.
You want to surround yourself with its intoxicating embrace,
Let it settle over you like a security blanket,
Staring at it so long and hard,
Willing it to brand itself in your memory.

The beauty of it almost hurts in its searing testament to life.
And when it’s brown and wilted,
Leaning towards the earth from which it came,
You realize this is the cycle of life,
And to know and appreciate this bloom for even a very short time,
Is much better than never to have seen or felt its presence.